


Catharsis

by FlukeOfFate



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mourning, Revenge, honestly tarkin and vader is a personal BroTP so I needed vader to show up, mostly some afterglow chat in the flashbacks, vader makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlukeOfFate/pseuds/FlukeOfFate
Summary: Tarkin has to see the body.





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> here it is. 2000+ words about a sad Grand Moff and his late boyfriend.
> 
> Vader makes an appearance.

He is still beautiful. 

That was the thought fighting for control of Wilhuff Tarkin’s mind as his stared at the body of his fallen stormtrooper. It was easier to focus on that perfect face than on the fact that he was not breathing. 

He had been going over his schedule when he received the alert. Two stormtroopers killed on the 300 level—stormtroopers who had been guarding a captured Corellian Freighter. 

300 level…he had just put in a transfer.

He told himself to remain calm. The Death Star was gigantic. The 300 level was likewise very large. There were thousands of personnel in that section of the battle station. There was no reason to worry. But soon the report flashed across his data pad and his heart stopped.

TK-421. 

Dead. 

It took a moment to register. The alphanumerical identification glowed in the pale blue light of the pad. Over the years, Tarkin had seen many long lists of casualties. Line after line of numbers and letters. They all tended to blur after a while. This was nothing like the rest. It was clear and sharp and wounding.

His beautiful one was dead. 

Officers and stormtroopers alike practically leapt out of the way as Tarkin strode through the corridors to the morgue. He moved like a storm on the horizon. one that should be avoided at all costs. His face was held in a well-practiced expression of authority and calm, but his eyes were a dance between fire and ice. He was stuck in a limbo of burning rage and cold despair, both emotions battling so fiercely inside him that he did not feel the chill of the room when the doors opened. 

He needed to see him.

It wouldn’t be real until he saw him. 

He needed to be alone for this. He barked out orders for the staff to leave. There was a murmured hum of confusion, but no one dared question his orders. All sentient beings were vacated within a few seconds. 

Finally. 

A thin sheet separated Tarkin from reality. Until it was removed, he could hope. It was tempting to linger there indefinitely, fighting the future, ignoring the truth; but Tarkin was nothing if not a practical man. He had to move forward. 

Best to treat it like ripping off a bacta patch. 

Oh stars, it hurt so much more than that.

Tarkin tried in vain to stifle the cry that bubbled from inside his chest. He hated how weak and pathetic is sounded, reverberating gently against the stark durasteel walls. The walls with the lighting that his lover had liked so much. It had made Tarkin chuckle at the time, in the afterglow of their second tryst, when he told him so. 

“You laugh. But really, you wouldn’t find me half as attractive with overhead lighting.”

“Nonsense. Nothing could make you less beautiful,” Tarkin had told him. The young man had blushed and snuggled closer. 

“Be careful with that flattery. I can be awfully greedy for compliments. If you keep it up, you might get stuck with me.”

“Perhaps I want to be stuck with you,” Tarkin said. He felt something shift then, like a wave on a beach that make you sink into the sand as the water pulled you in, and if you didn’t force yourself out you might be buried and drown. His heart beat loudly in his chest that moment. He realized that he wanted to drown. 

How did this happen? He was old enough to be the man’s grandfather. He was behaving in a manner he would normally have found abhorrent in his underlings. Tarkin had seen it before. Superior officers fucking their subordinates. Men and women alike, all laid low, all compromised by their emotions. The relationships were always based on pure lust and sycophantic desires. It wasn’t just frowned upon—it was dangerous. He had never understood why a person would throw caution out the airlock for the promise of a momentary dalliance.

Until now. 

Nine cycles prior, Tarkin saw true perfection in the shape of a flickering holorecording, and a primal need overwhelmed him. The pretty face in the message was all he could think about. It took three cycles to repair the mouse droid—time enough to consider the consequences of his actions and abort his plans. There were so many reasons to stop. The timing alone was bad. There was work to be done, plans to recover, a princess to interrogate, planets to destroy. All these things should have been an easy deterrent to the normally practical Grand Moff’s libido. But here he was, days later, limbs entwined with this perfect angel in the aftermath of their heated embrace. His angel. 

It didn’t matter if he was only in it for personal gain. Relationships are inherently selfish, he rationalized. Two people could only remain close as long as there was a mutual benefit. The moment one or both parties could no longer meet the needs of the other was when friends and lovers alike parted ways. And his lover’s needs…they were so simple. It charmed him. He had been prepared to contend with a man wanting a promotion, a chance to grasp power and prestige. It was the usual MO, wasn’t it? Fuck the boss, get a raise. 

Additionally, a power hungry lover could be a security risk. Rebels spies could be anywhere, and Tarkin would not be so careless to assume one would not stoop to sex in order to gain access to military secrets. But his lover desired no power; just a promise of easy living conditions and a chance to pursue a rather ridiculous (in Tarkin’s mind) career in droid racing. 

Well, if the ramming incident with the mouse droid was any indication, he might just have had a chance on the racing circuit. And on some level Tarkin felt he owed that mouse droid a modicum of thanks for the wonderful circumstance in which he found himself.

Tarkin decided that wasn’t going to let this one go. He had been discreet. He could hide this affair until his work here was done, then he could take him home to Coruscant, where he would eventually reveal his new lover to the galaxy. He would lavish him with finery and supply him with the tools and money to break into the droid racing circuit. He would proudly parade his lover among the elite, a silent declaration to the snobbish Core world aristocrats that they could never promise him a greater prize. They could keep their pathetic attempts at bribery. This lovely creature was worth the lot of them. 

It was fanciful. 

He had never been prone to daydreams. TK-421 on the other hand could flit from one thought to another, dream up a new scenario, then circle back to connect thought A to thought B. And no subject was taboo. It harkened back to Tarkin’s youth in the military and crass conversations among the troops. Back then, Tarkin was not inclined to fraternize, seeking to improve his tactics instead of his social skills. Now, it was like a familiar song, and Tarkin relished the youthful banter. 

Tarkin had laughed. He hadn’t laughed in ages, but somehow this young man could make him relax. He could lie with him and forget about his duties and the rebels, and instead could focus on another person’s unbroken dreams. 

“I can be myself with you” Tarkin had told him. 

“Well, its easy to be yourself when you don’t care about what a person thinks of you.”

Tarkin looked at him intently. “I value your opinion.”

He smiled brightly. “Yeah. Maybe you do. But you don’t need to impress me. You could drink till you threw up and needed to be put to bed, but you would never have to answer to me.”

“I suppose you are right,” Tarkin admitted. “But at the same time, I don’t think I have wished for anyone’s approval but yours.” 

“What did I tell you about flattery?”

Tarkin smiled widely. “You mean that I should keep doing it?” 

“More like you should keep doing me!” He rolled over to straddle Tarkin’s hips and dipped in for a kiss before riding him long and hard. Tarkin breathlessly asserted that he planned on stopping. 

Now, he had no say in the matter.

Tarkin studied the fine chiseled features of his face. His long lashes rested gently on his cheeks. His hair was mused and soft as it ever was, and Tarkin ran his hand through the locks, furiously trying to ignore how cold the scalp felt beneath his fingers.

He had been so warm.

Somehow it was that thought that broke his composure. Tears came slowly at first, large droplets splashing down as dipped down to rest his forehead against his lover’s. He shuddered with muffled sobs as he allowed himself to morn, if only for the next few minutes. He didn’t know the last time he had cried—probably not since he was a boy. A Tarkin did not show weakness. The weak would die in the wilds of Eriadu. Tarkin was not weak. He had learned his lessons well. He had ample tolerance for pain and a determination that could break through exhaustion. Even the Clone Wars, so full of death, had left him with little to lament. When he thought it through, he realized that he had never lost someone precious to him before. He knew he must allow himself this release, if only for a moment.

Grief quickly turned to anger. How dare the rebels take this from him? How dare they stuff his body into a crawlspace like smuggled contraband? It was a sin. Tears dried as Tarkin focused on his rage and he clung to it like a lifeline. He did not have the luxury of time, no matter what tragedy befell him. One more minute…one more minute and he would return to his duties, like nothing had ever happened.

“My condolences.”

Tarkin was startled to hear the deep mechanical rasp of Darth Vader behind him. How long had the black clad enforcer been standing there? Tarkin straightened up, adopting his usual impassive and strict demeanor as the weight of Vader’s words settled in. The dark shadow approached the table, masked features trained on the motionless figure lying there.

“That stormtrooper. You loved him.”

Tarkin didn’t respond for some time. The statement was merely a statement. There was perhaps some surprise, but no condemnation. There was no point in denying it. Vader would know the truth. 

“Are you a mind reader now?”

Vader moved to stand by him. “The Force can reveal much, but it is rarely so precise. Do not worry, Governor. I do not make a habit of prying into your thoughts.”

Tarkin believed him. Vader may have been a powerful and terrifying Sith Lord, but he was no liar—at least, not without cause. Tarkin highly doubted there was anything to gain from lying now. 

“…how long have you known?” 

“Not very long,” Vader said. “Just a few minutes, actually. Although, in the past week I could sensed a change in you. You were happy…” He looked down at the body. “..and then you were not. You don’t usually display such emotional swings. I came to make sure you weren’t compromised. I admit, I am surprised at the cause, but I’m not one to judge your need for companionship.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before. I didn’t expect to become so attached,” Tarkin said. “Thank you, for your discretion, Lord Vader.”

“We may not have always seen eye to eye Governor, but you have always had my respect,” Vader said. “I trust you will not let this interfere with your duties?”

“Well. I hardly have anything to distract me, now.” Tarkin said, ruefully. “Besides, I have discovered a new motivation. I have heard revenge can be rather cathartic.”

“You will have to let me know if that is true.”

The statement gives Tarkin pause. 

“I thought you could tell me. I thought your showdown with Kenobi was a success.”

“I’m not so certain. The Force is in flux. Something is about to change.” 

“Hopefully it will be to our advantage. We will be approaching their base in two cycles. We will crush the rebels,” Tarkin said. He looked down upon the body one last time before replacing the sheet. “Afterward, I’ll tell you how revenge feels.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's out of my system now! It's probably full of mistakes but I'm too tired to care. I wanted to just post it and sleep. 
> 
> If anyone ever is interested I can be found on Tumblr as flukeoffate.


End file.
